The In Between
by Sebi
Summary: Previously "Interlude". They live for the moments between the missions and epic battles. Only the lines that separate them are blurring and everything is changing. Set after Iron Man 2, and Avengers.
1. The In Between

I was watching Iron Man 2 the other day for the millionth time and it occurred to me that I really haven't seen anyone address the _pictures_. So this is a little something that came to mind. I'm not entirely happy with it but I'm done for now.

Please review and I apologize in advance for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

**The In Between  
**

* * *

He heard the door open then slam closed behind her. The sound of her heels hitting the far wall was a dead give away that her mission had taken a tool on her. Natasha was not one to throw her shoes around as they were one of her few indulgences. Her closet had a large number of designer names hung neatly on the shoe rack he had built for her last Christmas.

From what he had seen, heard, and read about Tony Stark, Clint knew the man would push Tasha's buttons. She had made a name for herself before SHIELD killing men like Stark for information, money, and occasionally just for kicks if they pissed her off.

Clint had been keeping tabs on her progress through out her assignment, without her knowledge of course. Natasha didn't appreciate his more protective instincts as much when they were employed in spying on her. To be honest he didn't get much appreciation when they were geared toward keeping her alive either, but whether she liked it or not Clint had a vested interest in her safety that was unlikely to ever change.

A pit fall when one was in love with their partner he had found.

It had taken a great amount of restraint on his part not to hop on a carrier to Malibu after he found out about Stark's epic failure of a birthday party. It's not that he didn't think she could handle herself, quite the opposite really. Clint knew she could handle any situation but that didn't change the fact that he wanted to be there for her, to support her and possibly put an arrow or two in Stark's ass if he tried to lay a finger on his partner. Clint knew first hand just how alluring Natasha could be, and although rationally he couldn't blame any man for wanting her, rationality rarely came into play when those men tried to hit on what was his.

He made himself comfortable on her spacious bed knowing she would find him soon. Other man would fear for their lives about now, to be caught lounging in the Widows web was a death sentence for most, but he had built up an immunity to her poison over the years, had come to crave it even. Clint had a health respect for her formidable skills but never fear.

As expected she found him seconds later. She paused at the door and Clint couldn't help the surge of male pride that shot strait down his spin at the look on her face. Two bottles of beer clutched in her hands, ruby lips poised to berate him for breaking into her apartment frozen mid motion, and her emerald eyes growing wide in appreciation before the shutters slammed shut. He would be lying if he said it didn't hurt when she shut him out but the years had taught him to expect as much.

Mentally shrugging off the sting he went back to admiring his most recent acquisition, stolen right from underneath Fury's nose. The glossy photos before him were nothing compared to the original, although far less detrimental to his health.

Clint knew the exact moment Natasha realized just what he was looking at, her stance tensed, shoulders squared, and one of the beer bottles slammed down on the dresser with a crack. He did his best to suppress his smirk, really he did.

"Where did you get those?" Each word a silk covered dagger amid at his throat and thrown with precision.

Clint's lips pulled back of their own accord in what she had dubbed his 'devil may come' grin. "I have my ways," he teased with a calculated wink, knowing it would rile her up.

Score! Alabaster cheeks flushed a becoming shade of indignation.

Clint had undertaken his own super secret mission to break into Fury's office a few weeks ago, the theme from Mission Impossible playing in his head the entire time. Which reminded him that he really needed to talk to Fury about upping his security; it was hardly comforting to know that it had taken him less than two minutes to break into the Director of SHIELDS office where all their personal information was stored.

"Besides, I was there the day these were taken, unless you've forgotten." He glanced up from one of his favorite shots of her reclining on her stomach, one hand hugging a silk pillow and the other teasing her parted lips clad in nothing but a little black and white lace bra and panty set he had selected, to meet her eyes in challenge.

For a second she appeared to be lost in a haze of memories, but too soon for his liking she snapped back to reality, glaring down at him.

"Last I checked you are the one with the eidetic memory and therefor you do not need hard copies, Barton." She reasoned, but he didn't miss the subtle quiver in her voice or the way she took a swig of her beer to hide the slight tremble in her hands.

When Fury had laid out her cover for Stark's evaluation, Clint had been more than a little upset. Although he was aware of what her job occasionally entailed and had covered her more than once while she seduced the target with both her words and body, but he wasn't overly fond of the idea of some low class photographer shooting her in next to nothing. He had made is objections known and after a very long night of arguing and way too much vodka Natasha had agreed to allow him to be present for the photo shoot.

He was more than a little proud of himself for winning that fight.

Upon arrival they found that the set had already been set up and a selection of lingerie waiting for her. Natasha, who had been rather unaffected by the whole affair, went to change behind the screen without a word to the poor newbie that had volunteered to be the photographer.

Clint almost felt sorry for the guy when he all but swallowed his tongue as Natasha came sauntering out in little green satin number minutes later. Almost, considering Clint had been rendered speechless himself, but who could blame him with all his blood currently pooling south of the border. It was hardly fair to except coherency while she stood there like a vision plucked strait out of his fantasies.

Thankfully the young agent had had enough sense to realize that the woman he was ogling could kill him twenty different and very imaginative ways with only her pinkie finger. In addition once he realized that Clint was not only staying, but watching his every move he kept is comments to a minimum and his eyes to himself as much as was possible under the circumstances. Clint had given him a solid B+ for effort.

Once the shoot was underway Clint had found a nest out of the way and settled in to enjoy the view. Over the course of their partnership they had seen each other in various states of undress, but as he watched her from his perch on the scaffolding above, he realized that this was different. His typically caustic partner had never been making love to a camera with hooded eyes. It took all of his considerable will power to resist the urge to throw her over his shoulder, whisk her way and have his way with her.

It hadn't helped matters that Natasha repeatedly glancing his way between shots. Their combined gaze smoldered and ignited into something wholly _not_ professional. Clint had allowed himself to hope for a second that it meant something beyond friendship but as the shoot came to a close he could feel her walls falling back into place. By the time she had reemerged fully dressed he knew the moment was lost.

Reflex overrode thought, his hand shot out of it's own accord and caught the boot Natasha had launched at his head, effectively bringing him back the present. She huffed in annoyance before flouncing across the room, snatched the photos out of his hands and replaced them with a cold beer with out missing a step.

He didn't mind, he had copies stashed away for safe keeping.

Taking a long pull of his beer he listened to her move around in the bathroom enjoying just being in the same room as her once more. His last mission had kept him away for two months, and although they spoke frequently the distance had left him feeling bereft.

"So how was your day, _dear_?" He could practically feel her eyes roll heavenward at his comment. It had taken Natasha years to adjust to his sense of humor, and even longer before she responded with more than a death threat.

"Let's just say I'm glad to be back."

Her voice sounded tiered and worn, entirely out of character for Natasha.

Clint angled his body toward her when he heard her exit the bathroom and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of her clad in his discarded shirt from earlier. He had hoped she would find it but he hadn't been prepared for the possessive rush of testosterone that accompanied the sight.

Without a word he lifted his arm inviting her to join him and after a moments hesitation she compiled, crawling into his arms willingly.

He lived for moments like these, where he could wrap her in his arms, hold her close without fear of a fight ensuing or offending her independent nature. Moments where the lines blurred and her ever ready walls fell long enough for him to slip in.

Contrary to popular belief it had not been love at first sight on his part. Clint hadn't saved her because he was a love sick fool as Fury had accused him of being when he'd brought her into the fold against orders. He had seen something in her, something that he recognized in himself every time he looked in the mirror. Killing her would have been paramount to admitting that he was beyond redemption, and he hadn't been ready to face that possibility just yet.

Love had come much later. It had taken a year and a half before she stopped spiting at him like an angry cat every time they were in the field together and he disagreed with her 'methods'. Even longer for her to trust him to have her back without question. And still he hadn't seen the shift until he was pacing the infirmary waiting to hear whether she would live or die after a mission gone south.

An array of sights, sounds, and emotions assaulted his mind with harsh detail but he quickly calmed the storm, choosing instead to concentrate on the long strands of her flaming curls wound around his fingers in tight ringlets. He loved the silky texture against his calloused skin but in truth he had always preferred her with shorter hair. The way it had been when he met her. The shorter length suited her personality in his mind; her long mane reminded him of the temptress, not the fierce determined woman that was his partner and woman he loved. The Widow and his Tasha were separate entities in his eyes and they always would be.

"When do you have to leave?" She murmured into the hollows of his neck and he had to suppress a very un-manly shudder at the sensation.

"In a few hours." Clint in-hailed the sweet fragrance of her hair and held it, hoping the sent would ease the ache at the thought of leaving her again so soon. He contented himself with drawing patters across the smooth skin of her arms. _Natalia_, he traced in flowing scripture. Her given name and the one he reserved for his dreams.

"The orders came in this morning. Coulson's found something in New Mexico that apparently demands my particular skill set to protect, or at least that's line of bullshit he's spinning today."

She nodded against his chest, her small fingers interlacing with his own longer digits in a silent acknowledgment of his irritation at being sent to the middle of no-where. But for all his aggravation this was the life they had chosen and the cards they had been dealt.

It didn't stop him from wishing for something more…

"Fury's given me a few days leave but he's shipping me off for an undercover op in Russia in three days."

His heart skittered in his chest at the mention of her birth place. Clint had half a mind to call Fury and tell him where he could shove his assignment but he knew that wouldn't help and Natasha would flay him for the effort.

"Natasha…"

"I know Clint. You don't have to say it." She sighed softly and if she hugged his side a little closer and he pulled her in a little bit tighter, nether one of them mentioned it.

_Be careful_ he wanted to say. _I love you_ he wanted to say, all things that went unspoken between them.

But this is where they lived, wedged between the lines. And if it was killing him slowly to hold her like this but never have her, he didn't mind.

Instead he let the minutes tick by listening to her quiet breaths, all the while trying to ignore the nagging feeling in his gut. The one that whispered that for better or worse, everything was about to change.

**The End**

I have and idea for a follow up, so let me know if anyone thinks I should continue.


	2. Aftermath

This is for all of you that reviewed and requested I continue. Thank you for all the love and encouragement.

As always I apologize for any spelling and grammar mistakes as I do not have a beta.

Please review, it gives me the inspiration to finish all of my other half formed ideas.

**The In Between (Aftermath) **

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"All right kiddies, off to bed!"

Natasha's teeth grated together listening to Tony's voice sing-song down the hall. His standard shit eating grin plastered across his heavily bruised face only adding fuel to the fire.

At the moment she wanted nothing more than to deck the smug billionaire but he wasn't worth the effort. Besides, she was almost positive if she let go of Clint now, one or both was going to topple over considering she had supported him for the better part of the last few hours.

Once Loki had been detained their rag tag group had obliged Stark with a trip to his Shwarma joint. The food hadn't been as bad as she'd been expecting but honestly she had been more worried about her partner than what they were eating at the time.

Clint had been hiding it well but she could tell from the subtle favoring of his left leg that he had done something monumentally stupid getting off the roof. Knowing her stubborn ass partner as she did, Natasha knew that Clint would rather suffer in silence then show weakness in front of their new teammates. Even if that meant walking down several flights of steps and four blocks on a fractured tibia and a possible dislocated knee.

_Men_, she thought with a roll of her eyes, but she understood the desire to remain strong no matter the cost better than most. Casually, she had sat facing her partner at the half demolished restaurant leaving enough room for Clint to prop his leg up on her chair.

He had offered her a silent thank you, before they both went about picking at their food for the next hour. The group ate in silence; each too lost in their own thoughts or just too damn tiered to muster up the energy to talk.

Natasha and Clint exchanged glances every few minuets, speaking volumes with out a single word passing between them.

This was their way, their language.

It had hit her mid swallow just how close she had come to losing this, losing him. Bile rose in her throat with the realization that his demise had almost come by a stroke of her own hand. A well executed cough covered her miss-swallow, but Clint caught her alarm and furrowed his brow in concern.

_Later_, she pleaded with her eyes. She didn't want to do this here, not with Tony watching their every move. He continued studying her for a second longer before nodding his agreement.

Unfortunately, due to all the destruction and alien bodies littering the streets of Manhattan they had to walk another two blocks to get to the carrier sent to take them back to base. Clint had made it a block and a half before his knee started to give out on him. Natasha had to admit that she was impressed that he had made it that far.

With a purposeful stumble, Natasha had caught herself with a strategic arm around Clint's waist. From there on out, they walked/limped their way back to the shuttle with Clint's arm wrapped securely around her shoulder. If the others noticed, they didn't comment on the two agent's support of one another.

They had arrived back at base and after the medics confirmed her suspicions about Clint's leg, they wrapped his knee up tight, gave him a hefty dose of a rapid healing serum and sent them packing. Surreptitiously, Natasha swiped a bottle of pain meds for when the adrenalin high wore off and the pain set in.

With all the wounded civilians and agents from the Helli-carrier the base had been packed beyond capacity. Tony had offered up the lower levels of what remained of Stark Tower as temporary housing for his fellow teammates. Thor had opted to stay behind and keep an eye on Loki, lest he try to escape again, but the rest of the team took Stark up on his offer. Bruce was given his own floor as a precaution, while Steve, Clint and she took the next floor up.

"Cap, your room is to the right, and that leaves Robin Hood and Maid Marianne down the hall, last two rooms to your left." Brown eyes sparkled with mischief as Tony watched the two agents hobble down the hall, his comment earning a one fingered salute from the Hawk.

Tony had ample time to observe the spy's while they enjoyed their Shwarma. It hadn't escaped his notice over the past two days that his old friend, the delectable Black Widow had been more concerned with finding her wayward partner then saving all man kind. A tidbit of information that had piqued his interest, especially considering what he knew of the little vixen from their first meeting. Tony had pegged her as a man-eater but perhaps he had been too hasty with his initial evaluation. The newest member of their little group seemed to have the ability to tame the wild red-head, a curious and admirable ability in deed.

Yep, they were defiantly sleeping together he deduced when the two disappeared into one of the rooms and the lock clinked in place behind them.

Oh this was going to be fun, Tony schemed rubbing his hands together in anticipation but in the mean time he had a date to keep with his own strawberry blond.

* * *

Locked safely in their room, Natasha helped Clint over to the lavish bed set in the middle of the room before allowing her self to sag against the far wall.

_Breathe, just breathe_.

They were going to pay for that in the morning. She could already hear Tony rattling on about their sleeping arrangements, but one glance over at her now shirtless partner she really didn't care. Besides, it would be fun to see Tony's face when Clint cut him down to size with his famous biting whit, they were well matched.

Clint; for his part was just glad to be himself again, screw Stark and his jokes, he was alive, approaching sanity and with the only person in the world that mattered to him. Looking at his partner he could see the far away look in her eyes as she stared at the patch work bruising marring his chest and shoulders. This was a look he recognized all too well.

"Hey, come back to me Tasha." He called softly, not wanting to startle her as he limped his way to her position. She was prone to striking out with deadly force when startled; she was very much like a skittish colt in that respect. Thankfully the call of his voice was enough to break her out of her thoughts.

Red rimmed eyes turned to him. "You shouldn't be up." She led him back to the bed, pushed him down with gentle pressure, before kneeling to remove his heavy boots. All the while Clint watched her, growing more concerned by the minute.

"What was that back in the restaurant?" He probed when she continued to avoid his eyes.

"It was nothing."

She stood from her kneeling position, needing the distance standing provided to gather her thoughts, but he wasn't having any of it.

"I didn't believe that line when I questioned you about Loki and I don't believe it now. I know you Tash, something rattled you back there. What was it?" Catching her shaking hands he pulled her down to kneel in front of him again. When he was sure he had her attention he gently turned her face until her eyes met his unblinking.

"I realized how close I came to losing you." Natasha hated the way her voice shook, and the quiver in her abdomen, but the words forced them selves out against her will. She couldn't keep it in any longer, not with him so close and so very alive.

"Not going to happen Nat."

Twisting out of his hold she turned her back on him. "How can you say that?"

She needed to run, escape before she unraveled at the seams, before every secret she had fought to keep was laid bare before him. A small part of her wondered if it would really be so wrong to let him see her.

"Look at what we do Clint, sooner or later this is going to end. Everything ends!" There were no tears in her voice, just a bitter resignation to a long-held truth.

Natasha had been forged in a world were lies were whispered like prayers and the truth was guarded with the steel of a thousand swords. An early acquaintance with the laws of uncertainty had left her numb until Clint came into her life, slowly injecting trust back into her withered veins, but old lessons were hard to forget.

"All right, no promises. I know that nothing lasts forever as well as you do, but this," he motioned between the two of them. "This is worth fighting for Nat."

He could see her eyes softening; feel the pull that had led him to spare her so long ago, that same pull that kicked his heart into over drive every time he touched her skin. "After everything we've been through. Your history, my history, mind control, a psychotic demigod and an entire army of alien super soldiers couldn't stop us Tasha. You can't tell me that doesn't mean something?"

Green eyes locked with blue, searching but like so many times before she shut down before a decision could be made.

"It means that you're a sap, Barton." She joked shoving him lightly. Pain creased his brow when her hand-made contact with a particularly tender bruise. Natasha was up and across the room retrieving the pain pills she had absconded with in an instant.

He mentally cursed his injures for the millionth time that night. Knowing the moment had passed, he allowed her to help him step out of the remains of his tattered uniform and lay back on the bed.

Clint fell back on the sheets with a contented moan, Tony's set up sure beat his bunk back on the Hellicarrier.

"I could sleep for a year."

"I'm too wired to sleep." She paced the length of the room before settling against the wall of windows over looking the city.

Looking down of the glittering lights she could almost believe that the last few hours had been a dream, but her mind reared to life offering her images of Clint's battered unconscious form being dragged away. Not a dream, more like a waking nightmare.

"Well that's too bad," he called from the bed, drawing her ever wondering mind back to him once more. "Because this has been a very long 48 hours and before that I spent 3 months living on a few hours of sleep because my favorite body pillow was off freezing her ass off in Russia."

"I was not freezing my ass off, it was summer." A ghost of a pouty smile pulled at her lips, and his heart lightened knowing her could still get her to smile even after trying to kill her. He shivered at the thought but he pushed them back and locked the cage behind them, if only for tonight.

"Semantics, now get over here."

Natasha turned to him with a scowl firmly set in place but he simply returned her look with a self satisfied smirk and a crooked finger in her direction. This was a familiar game for them.

Eyes locked in a silent battle of wills; it was Natasha that backed down first. Years of experience had taught her what was worth fighting for and when to just give in.

Stripping down to her camisole and underwear she padded over to the bed; they had long ago given up on modesty around one another. He had seen her in far less and she had fished a bullet out of his ass, so really what was a little skin between partners?

Sinking down into the mattress he wrapped his arms around her comfortably.

Natasha felt weightless in his arms, the unbearable burden of a lifetime of sins melt to the background in the cocoon of his embrace. If asked why she returned time and time again to his side, this would be her answer.

There was a deeper truth lurking below the choppy waters of her mind, hidden in places she dare not examine too closely. There is risk in his eyes, the muted silver depths whispered of dreams beaten out of her long ago.

Still, she dreamed in silver sometimes. When near constant fatigue claimed her against her will, offering a few precious hours of restful sleep. In those hours she dreamed of far off places, still nights spent wrapped in bands of comforting steel, a home she could call her own, and green eyes flecked with silver staring up at her with such wonder and innocence. A pure love that had no place in her waking existence.

These were the nights she woke with the sting of tears burning a trail down her cheeks, staining porcelain skin with their invisible brand that tainted her reflection. Gasping for breath, she would be left to grieve for a life that would never be hers.

She had always believed it was better this way, to live between the lines. Only after recent events she was beginning to reevaluate her earlier position on what could and could not be.

Possibilities ran wild circles through her head and the adrenalin coursed through her veins leaving her feeling restless.

"I'm never going to fall asleep." She grumbled unhappily. Her legs stretched and kicked at the sheets agitating Clint's injured knee.

"Then I'll just have to make you, now shut up and listen." He commanded playfully.

"The itsy, bitsy spider…"

"Clint!" She grabbed for one of the many pillows littering the bed and whopped him for emphasis but they were both laughing merrily. A welcome sound after the horrors they had endured recently.

"What, not appropriate? Alright, close your eyes Nat." The smile in his voice lightened her heart, offering her hope that he may come out of this nightmare alright.

Softly he began to sing. The pitch of his rich voice and the feel of it vibrating through his chest lulled her mind into relaxation. After a few minutes Clint felt l her breathing even out and her heartbeat calm.

"Feeling better?" He breathed into the night.

"Hum, much better." They lay in silence for what could have been hours but in reality was only a matter of minutes, just long enough for Clint to begin to doze off.

"Clint?" Natasha called into the darkness, a grunt was her only reply.

"Do you ever think about what it would be like to leave it all behind?" She didn't need to elaborate; he knew what she was thinking. He usually did.

Flickering his eyes open, he watched the play of lights dance across the ceiling in a careless ballet. "Sometimes."

"Tell me."

A simple request, almost childlike, and one that could not be ignored.

Natasha listened as he weaved beautiful dreams of a life away from SHIELD, away from their pasts and all the hell that came with. A life where they could build something real and something entirely of their own making; a life that mirrored her own dreams. A single tear slipped past her defenses and although instinct demanded that she wipe it away with force, she let it fall, mark her skin in an invisible tattoo so that she would remember this moment.

He trailed off after a time as sleep claimed him. She didn't mind though, Clint had given her what she needed to ease her mind and now it was her turn to offer the same in return.

Soon the demons would come to play, each demanding their pound of flesh from her sleeping partner. There was nothing she could do to change that, but she could be there to ease his mind, hold him while he made sense of the chaos Loki left behind.

Everything was about to change, but in the mean time she would stay where she was, curled in his arms, resting in the in between.

**The end for now.**

** Come on, you know you want to write something in that box below. Please! ;)**


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